Family Fortunes
by Graveygraves
Summary: The team catch a case that reveals a secret Pen was perfectly happy to be oblivious of. Written for CCOAC OC challenge. Beta'd but veiws and reveiws always appreciated. Rating to be on the safe side - mainly due to occasional language.
1. The Case

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother. **

**I had two ideas this story the first a basic her finding out about and meeting her step brother. However the second was much darker and that is what you have here. Hope you like it.**

**I have tried to research everything as thoroughly as I can, sorry if I cause offence to anyone in any of the cities I have named – literally found a map and started picking from it.**

**At the start of the year I made a resolution not to post a story without finishing it first – however 5 chapters in this has caused me to break that resolution. The only promise I will make at this stage is a weekly update, until I have managed to finish it in real life. Sorry.**

**. . .**

Pen shuffled her way into the early morning crowd of the bullpen. Her turquoise heels doing little to hinder her progress toward the collection of her coffee consuming colleagues.

"Good Morning my Sweeties," Pen smiled, "except it is not a good morning really," she added, waving a manila file at them before leading the way towards the conference room.

The five individuals followed her obediently – with various rolls of eyes, moans and groans. Joining Hotch around the table, each member of the elite team took a seat; ready to hear whatever had drawn their leader's attention.

Garcia flicked the large flat screen on before passing the paper copy of the information over to Reid - settling herself next to Hotch she begun the team's briefing.

"So my intrepid explorers, your help is desired in my home State. We have a roving bad guy that needs your attention," as Pen spoke, she aimed the remote over her shoulder, pressing buttons as various images filled the screen.

"Before you are Dana Howarth, Lisa Potter and Tina Brown." The head and shoulder shots of the three women showed remarkable similarity. All three had beautiful rich auburn hair - loose waves long enough to cover their shoulders. Each appeared to wear too much make-up, but it was obvious they were of a similar age - in their mid thirties.

"If you look at the information I have collated so far for you, you will see each of our ladies had a lot in common. All three worked as 'exotic dancers' in the city they died in," Penelope paused briefly to glance round the group. "Dana 'Phoenix' Howarth was a San Diego resident, though originally hailed from Phoenix, Arizona – hence her stage name. She turned 35, two weeks ago. Went to work on the Friday night as usual but didn't turn up the next evening for her shift. When the club owner got no reply on her cell he left her to it; apparently no shows are not unusual in his business – though he did describe her as reliable when interviewed. Later Saturday night, Dana's body was found dumped in an alley - mere feet from her apartment."

"Dumped alongside the trash," Rossi thought out loud as his finger lazily slid through the crime scene images on his tablet. "Guess we know what our guy thinks of these girls. Did she have a record?"

"If you are referring to the assumption that these women are prostitutes, then no – none of our victims have been charged or suspected of prostitution. They dance, admittedly in less than I wear on the beach, but that's their choice, I guess." Pen couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the thought – give her a computer any day.

"They weren't prostitutes, yet each of them has been sexually assaulted…was he assuming they were and when they didn't give him what he wanted he took it for himself?" Emily pondered the MO.

Penelope nodded before continuing. "A week later, Lisa 'Bellatrix' Potter turned up in Anaheim under similar circumstances."

"There is no arrangement of the bodies," Reid pointed out as his eyes flitted from one photo to the next that he had carefully pulled from his file. "It seems probable that the attack and murder happen at the spot that the body is left." Spreading out the contents of his file with his long fingers Dr Reid tugged at a series of reports. "They are strangled, then post-mortem stabbing occurs."

The whole team could see his brain working through the information as his eyes skimmed over the sheets in his hands.

"Usually such an action would be associated with impotence," Reid continued. "However, he has already raped the women so we know that is not the case. Yet to switch from strangulation to stabbing is a form of over kill, and it is extremely unusual; normally the killer would continue with the original method – combining the beating with the strangulation. The over kill probably occurs due to the fact he is too self-absorbed to know when to stop. Our UnSub is angry, but possibly confused, too."

"Suggesting what?" JJ asked, the member newest to profiling was doing well but still keen to learn from her colleagues.

"He's young," Morgan interceded, causing Reid to look up from the open file and nod his approval, "late teens, early twenties maybe. Just like your average teenager swings from one fad to another while they find their true identity, so does our killer. He's experimenting with what 'fixes' things for him. He is full of anger and needs an outlet. The rape is important, but why not use the knife to keep them quiet? Strangulation is very controlling."

JJ nodded, returning her gaze to the images.

Pen sat opposite Morgan, open mouthed. "Has this junior Sicko not heard of gaming? Hell, he can kill as many as he wants and no-one gets hurt."

"Actually," the whole team turned to face Reid, who was posed, one finger in the air, "there have been several studies into the effects of gaming on violence in young people. Though they vary greatly in their results, a meta-analytic review conducted by CA Anderson and his colleagues in 2010 took the results from a range of previous studies and then averaged them out to give us the best estimate of the true effect of violent video game playing on actual violence. They stated there is a clear causal link between violent video-game playing and actual violent behaviour, aggressive emotions, physiological outcomes associated with aggression, and aggressive thoughts."

For a second time since entering the room, Pen sat slack-mouthed, staring at the genius and mentally making a note to talk to Kevin about his 'World of Warcraft' addiction.

"Okay, thank you for that," she managed. "So, if I could just draw your attention back to our third victim who was discovered mere hours ago and caused the Los Angeles field office to request our help. Tina 'Flame' Brown, so nick- named for the golden highlights in her enviable red hair, was found in Long Beach."

Hotch glanced around the team. "We can discuss this more on the jet. Garcia, please continue to check the background of our victims and let us know anything you find out."

"Of course, sir." She gave a slight nod of her head as she begun to gather her belongings from the table.

Then Hotch spoke the immortal words: "Wheels up in thirty."


	2. Background

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother. **

**As I said from the start this story is still in progress, I will update weekly until I have completed in real life. Please bear with me – I hope it will be worth it.**

**. . .**

The long flight gave them plenty of time to discuss the facts further. Gathered around the computer the team looked upon Garcia's bright image.

"So, here's the deal my Shining Knights. Other then the physical similarities and the occupation, there is no tangible connection between our victims. I have been through every possible option. They don't even hold accounts at different branches of the same bank."

"Is there nothing else you can give us, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"Oh ye of little faith," Pen teased, waving a fluffy violet pen across the screen, "I never said I hadn't got more for you. I have run thorough background checks of all of our victims and have sent it through to you now." She paused, waiting to hear the first ping of the arriving email. "And for those of you without the reading speed of Dr Reid, I have the following summary. First up, Dana, our Phoenix who flew the nest and rose again in San Diego; she appears to have come to California in her twenties as the fiancé of a rather rich playboy. Looking at the mild media coverage, she was traded in for a new model and turned back to her dancing roots to make her means. Just over ten years later she is doing the same job, only now she is 'older', the club is slightly less plush than the places she started in. However, she is debt free and renting a reasonable apartment in a less than perfect part of town. Her employment record is consistent. She has no immediate family or dependents – she left everyone back in Phoenix."

"I assume they have been informed?" Hotch asked.

"Uh yeah, but according to the records they have requested she is buried in San Diego and have sent the money through to cover the cost - apparently stating that 'they lost their daughter a long time ago'."

"Nothing like unbreakable family bonds, eh?" Rossi added dryly.

"Moving on one week, we get to Lisa. Anaheim, born and breed, all she has ever wanted to do was dance. Though I kinda guess from the school reports, exotic dancing in a 'gentleman's club' was not the image she had as a child. Lisa has a list as long as my arm of different dance certificates, qualifications and awards. The club she was working in was 'Members Only', only one out of the victims we have. And when I say 'Members Only' interpret that to mean men who have far more money than is healthy, the kind that make Rossi look poor. These guys are seriously spending mega bucks just to get in the doors – not to mention what a drink costs!" Pen let out a low whistle.

"Hey Rossi, I'm willing to pair up with you to check that one out," Morgan smiles.

"Trust me Derek," he smiled back, aware of the dark humour that helped them keep their sanity, "when I tell you money doesn't guarantee the quality of the merchandise. Just coz Lisa was pretty, doesn't mean they all will be."

"When you two have quite finished…" Pen's stern voice came over the speakers. "Lisa was paid well and had a large apartment in a very nice area. Her social networking statuses show a true party girl with no attempts to settle down. Her credit card history also indicates an addiction for designer shoes!"

"So personality wise our victims couldn't be more different," JJ interceded. "One working hard to keep herself a float, the other working to feed her shoe habit and party lifestyle. What about Tina Brown?"

"Ah, this is a sad one. Mother of two, Tina seems to have slipped into dancing from bar tending. Her husband was injured in a car accident several years ago and hasn't worked since. She was working her ass off providing for the family. Insurance only covers so much, huh," a quick shrug of her shoulder accompanied the statement. "She was less than a block away from home when she was murdered."

The team fell silent, knowing how involved Penelope got into the lives of these people.

With a sigh Pen started again. "The scene is being processed and the locals are putting the pressure on the ME to process her as soon as possible. Hopefully we have more information by the time you arrive. The family has a support officer, but things are not going well so far."

The pain of the story she was telling was evident on her pretty features.

"Thank you Garcia," Hotch spoke – giving her chance to gather herself, "I think this information has given us as many questions as it has answers. Let's go over what we know already."

"Is it safe to assume that our UnSub may have originated from the San Diego area and is for some reason working his way east?" Emily asked.

"Some sort of mission based killer, you mean?" Hotch replied.

"If not then why move from city to city as he is?"

"His job could lead to a need to move around," Morgan suggested.

"But that wouldn't fit with the age group we assigned to our UnSub" Reid added.

"There definitely are some contradiction," Rossi stroked his goatee as he pondered the information. "The UnSub appears to be young or at least immature in his methods. Yet he is organised enough to bring the knife with him and make sure he takes it away again; though he doesn't use that weapon until after they are dead. It is almost like he doesn't want them to experience the pain he is inflicting. He is separating the rape and murder from the damage he is causing post-mortem. They are two isolated events."

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "A partner?"

"Possible," Rossi spoke with some scepticism.

"It seems likely that our UnSub followed these women home from work - they had all worked a shift on the Friday night and so far, time of death puts them all as being killed in the early hours of the following Saturday morning. If our UnSub is going to the clubs, then hopefully we can get something from the CCTV of each place?" Emily asked, pointing her question towards Garcia.

"Oh lovely," Pen sighed, a sad expression still marring her features, "I have already tried that route. The good news is 'Caesar's', the club Tina worked in, has footage for us. At the moment the locals are putting the pressure on 'Fig Leaves' in Anaheim. They currently seem more worried about protecting their membership then helping find Lisa's murderer. We have nothing from the club Dana worked in. Guess that would have been too easy, hey!"

"And we couldn't possibly have that, could we," Rossi sarcastic tones summing up the thoughts of them all.


	3. UNSUB

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother. I am moving the case along a little quicker than normal – mainly because it is a means to an ends – which hopefully you will appreciate.**

**. . .**

Arriving at the Los Angeles field office, the team tried to adjust to the fact that, thanks to the time difference, their day was starting all over again. As they were led through the busy building, to the room that would become their temporary home, their minds were still whirring with the facts they had already received and the conjecture they had accumulated.

Lots of what they knew already was contradictory and they were a huge step away from creating a worthy profile of their UnSub. Even five hours of flight time had not been long enough to work through the finer details that tripped up their predictions.

Settling down their belongings on the central cluster of tables, the team began their usual routines. Reid was quick to set up a map and continue his Geographical profile. JJ made a start on the evidence boards and was soon joined by Emily.

"Morgan, Rossi," Hotch spoke as he entered the room, having just been to speak to the Agent who had requested the BAU's involvement, "Can you two take the drive down to Long Beach and liaise with the locals and ME and see if there is any additional information for us."

"Sure thing," Rossi answered, before nodding in Morgan's direction. The two left as Hotch opened a laptop and started reviewing the notes he had made of the teams discussion on the flight over.

. . .

Stretching his aching muscles the hooded youth stood, sleeping rough was not his idea of a good time, but he had no other option. Drink, he needed a drink, he thought licking his dry lips. And a shower, he decided, pulling a face at the stench emitting from his body. Grabbing his bag, that he had used the night before as a pillow, he headed out of the alley and onto the main street. Hopefully there would be a hostel or something nearby he could grab something to eat, a few more hours sleep and a chance to freshen up.

. . .

Standing by the badly beating body of Tina Brown, Morgan and Rossi shared a look. Being this close it was obvious she had taken considerably more of a beating then the previous victims. Though not to her face. Her body was black and blue, even before the addition of post-mortem blood pooling, but there wasn't a single mark on her face.

"Why didn't we spot that before?" Rossi asked, casually waving a finger towards her pale face.

Morgan's eyebrows rose as he shook his head, trying to recall the images her had seen earlier. It was times like this he could see the advantages of Reid's memory; "Photos can only give us so much," he muttered as a half excuse.

. . .

Stumbling back out into the early evening air, he was surprised where the day had gone. Obviously last night's activities had taken more out of him then he had initially thought. Looking down at his sore knuckles, he was surprised by the solid dull purple colour and the multitude of cuts and grazes.

"Jeeze," he whispered, flexing his fingers, _what the hell had caused that?_ Rubbing his hands over his stubble covered face, the rough skin scratching his large palms, he sighed. He knew what he had done; he remembered the club and following her, but this? Racking his brain he could find no explanation for the injuries. Carlos reasoned he must have blanked out again, he vaguely remembered his headache starting. They had been getting worse, leaving blanks he couldn't account for.

Making his way down the busy street, he found a quiet bench to sit down on. Shoving his hands deep into the pocket of his hooded top, he slumped down. His body language making it quite clear that talking to him was not a good idea. He wanted to be left alone.

Closing his eyes he tried hard to remember. He could see it in his mind's eye, following her home. God he had waited for hours out in the cold for her to finish. He had been so convinced it was 'her' and luckily she walked; the last one had made it much harder, getting a cab to follow her had cost him a fortune, and not what he had intended spending what little money he had on. Then for it not to be her, had been such a waste.

He could recall the heat pooling in him as he had got closer, bubbling steadily until it boiled over at the point when he made the final grab. He remembered slamming her against the rough wall, his hand over her mouth to silence her, the fear in her eyes as she looked directly at him. It wasn't her!

The feel of his hands slipping down to her throat, feeling her pulse below his fingers and it beat rapidly. The anger swelling, urged on by the disappointment. Squeezing the soft pulsing point until it slowed, but didn't stop.

That was when it went blank. Nothing!

Not until he woke up this morning.

. . .

The team had gathered at the end of their long day, the extra hours taking their toll. Between them they had started to weed out some of the information.

Pen had got hold of the CCTV footage and having been though it had passed it on to the team.

"There is no-one inside young enough to fit your profile," she spoke over the speakers, between munching on a cookie. "The club has a strict age policy. Which made me think to check back with the others -both have an age policy, as expected. In addition to this there is the fact that 'Fig Leaves' is members only."

"So our UnSub isn't meeting them in the club, how is he meeting them?" Emily asked, "There are no other connection other than their appearance and the fact they are all dancers."

"Watching them from outside the club," Morgan shrugged, "Hey Baby Girl chances of footage from outside the places?"

"Oh Hot Stuff, for you anything is possible," she purred.

Rossi rolled his eyes before speaking, "If he can't get in to see these girls then it does support our age theory, but it also means that he is being extremely specific in his choices. The near identical appearance and fact they are all dancers suggest he is substituting for someone."

"I think we need to call it a night," Hotch spoke flatly as he looked round his team, "We will meet at 7am tomorrow and I want to deliver our profile first thing tomorrow. I think we have enough information to do that now."

They had all been given the green light to go –but they all knew that they would continue to work into the night.


	4. Breakthrough

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother. Techinically the second chapter of this week but chapter 5 won't be up before next weekend - awaiting chapters from my beta before I can post again. Good news I have completed 12 chapters so far and think I have a few more to fit in before the end!  
**

**. . .**

Each member of the team had their preferred beverage in hand and there was a pile of pastries in the middle to pass over the inconvenience of not stopping to consume breakfast.

The open laptop screen was filled with a chirpy looking Garcia. She had been up as late as them the night before – which translated to five hours ahead of them. She must have been lucky to get to bed before it was time to get up again. Morgan glanced past the violet hued image of Penelope Garcia and spotted the pile of blankets and a pillow on the couch behind her.

"Comfy night, Sweetheart?" he commented, making it clear he was aware she had stayed the night in her office.

Pen winked. "Not as comfy as it would have been with you here, Angel Fish?"

Morgan smiled, ever grateful for her cheery disposition.

Hotch coughed, getting everyone's attention.

"We will spend the next couple of hours formulating the profile, and then I have arranged with Agent Donoghue to deliver the profile at the 9am briefing." He paused to check everyone's agreement. "Garcia, I need you to work on getting additional video footage from outside the clubs. You have our preliminary profile so you have an idea of who we are looking for. If we are really lucky, we will have the same face turn up at each club."

"Don't worry Sir, whoever I spot, I will do my best to find identification for you. You know I have the wizardry," she smiled widely before slurping on one of the two mugs of coffee in front of her. "Over and out."

The screen went blank as the table erupted into a mass of files and photos.

. . .

Pen took off her bright framed glasses and rubbed at her sore eyes. She had only been at it for just over an hour but already she was feeling the strain. She knew right now the team would be delivering a profile and then they would split up to carry on their search for more information.

Pen had already forwarded all the video footage she had received - which varied greatly from club to club. Slipping her glasses back on, she peered at the split screen that showed four views from outside the first club. The grainy black and white images left a lot to be desired - and was the reason Pen could feel the dull throbbing of an oncoming headache.

As she considered taking a break, her finger hit pause. Peering in closer to the screen she enlarged the image that had caught her eye.

"Hel . . . lo, and more to the point does your Mommy know you were out that late?" she chirped at the unidentified youth on the screen.

Her finger flitted across the screen, zooming in on the image of the young dark haired male. She had seen someone moments earlier wandering past the entrance, hood up and apparently minding his own business. Easily dismissed – but now he was making an appearance on the camera overlooking the rear of the building. His hood was down and he appeared to be attempting to look into the windows.

"Come on Honey, look at the camera for me, please," Pen begged, dragging out the last word.

The door of the building opened and Pen's dreams were answered. The youth's attention was held by the large, suit clad man exiting the building. Pen winced. She didn't need sound to know the exchange was not pleasant.

Gaining her focus, Penelope started to crop what she needed and begun using the photo to find an identity and search the other footage to see if there was a match at the other clubs too.

. . .

"Our UnSub is driven by a set of very specific needs; his victims have to fit a very clear set of criteria. Anyone that doesn't conform can assume they are safe. However, anyone that does fit, is to be considered at risk. He may be suffering some form of breakdown - this may have left him in a delusional state," Hotch had started the briefing in the room full of keen looking agents.

"The breakdown will be linked to a serious event in his life – lose of someone close or dominating in his life being the most likely," Emily took over. "It is possible that the victims are a substitute for that same person – now they are gone, he can do to them what he wanted to do to them when they were alive, or it could be a person they hold responsible for the cause of his distress. Either way our victims' description matches someone prominent in our UnSub's life.

"Our UnSub is exerting an extreme level of over kill on the victims" Reid stepped in next. "All of the women are alive when raped, however they are then strangled. Once they are dead they are stabbed repeatedly. The act of stabbing shadows the penetrative act of rape rather than the murder method. Over kill in such a manner is openly demonstrating the UnSub's anger towards the unconscious victim."

Morgan stepped up next to the younger man. "There are several confusing and contradictory elements to the murders, which lead us to believe that our UnSub is either physically or mentally immature - placing him approximately in the 18 to 25 year age range." As he was speaking he noticed Hotch disappear out of the corner of his eye, leaving the room with his phone to his ear.

Stepping out in the corridor Hotch spoke more clearly, "What have you got, Garcia?"

"I have a name for you," she replied.

"Good. We have just about finished delivering the profile. Send anything you have and I will gather the team."

. . .

Gathered once more around the screen, the team listened to Garcia's chirpy tone as she explained the blown up images they had of the same person at each of the venues.

"I have run the image through the system, and please let me introduce Carlos Garcia, no not related - as far as I know," she joked dryly.

"Get me all you can, Baby Girl, so I can finish the son of a bitch," Morgan growled. "The guy doesn't deserve to share the same name as someone as beautiful as you."

Garcia blushed. "Already working on it, Hot Stuff."


	5. Carlos

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother. Hopefully this chapter may begin to answer a few questions.**

. . .

Pen sat and stared at the screen, having read the information before her though twice. Even with her lighting fast mind she still failed to process this data.

Spending her days delving into people's lives led to all sorts of discoveries. Some good, some not so good! This one registered as disastrous.

Blinking rapidly, in an attempt to wake up from the nightmare before her, she blindly reached for the nearby coffee and downed it. Grateful for the double espresso hit, as her brain rebooted, she turned towards the webcam and connected with the team. She was a professional after all.

They needed this information and quick. She knew she could send it straight through to them, but there was something she needed to do first.

Pen swallowed hard as the stoic tones of her Unit Chief greeted her. At least it was him, and not Morgan. "Garcia, what have you found for us?" Hotch asked flatly, tiredness etched in his features.

"Um, well, I have done a background search on Carlos Garcia, and to be honest there are some interesting and contradictory elements to the information. I have him living at home with his mother all his life. Though it appeared they moved frequently over the years. Which is causing me some problems; sure I'll have that sorted soon. He is a High School drop-out, with a short list of minor offences. Are you sure you have the right guy?" she asked tentatively.

"Can you send through what you have and let us be the judge of that," Hotch answered with a slight hint of annoyance tingeing his voice.

"Sure thing Boss man, soon as I can."

"Soon as you can?" Hotch questioned, his head lifting from the file he was reading as he looked directly at Garcia.

"Um," Pen swallowed nervously, "things are a little hinky here and I need to run a couple of system checks before I risk sending out data. Besides I haven't found much that you haven't already got to hand. His police record has last known address and such. Hopefully once the system is back up to its full functioning self, I will be of more use. I can add his most recent school records but other than that, this guy is pretty much off the grid. He doesn't seem to have a bank account and I am pretty sure he doesn't even know what the internet is to have a history on it. What is he some sort of freak?" she squeaked, realising that she was openly lying to her superior.

"Not everyone lives their life online Garcia, just send everything as soon as you can. He is the best lead we have," Hotch's tone made it clear how important it was.

Shutting the connection down guilt washed over Pen. She wasn't a natural born liar. In fact she had never in her life knowingly lied to Hotch, okay she may have been a little creative with her excuses at times but never lied. Until now! There was nothing wrong with her computer system. The issue was the information she had received.

Others had skeletons in their closet. The nasty secrets no-one should ever know, but not Penelope Garcia. She wore her heart on her sleeve – she was an open and honest book, there to be read by those with genuine interest. Until today!

Today Pen found a huge ugly skeleton dancing away for all to see. Carlos Garcia suspected serial rapist and murderer, also illegitimate son of her step father.

She cringed as she recalled Morgan's words as she had been asked to run the checks on Carlos Garcia. "Get me all you can Baby Girl, so I can finish the son of a bitch. The guy doesn't deserve to share the same name as someone as beautiful as you."

Share her name, he shared her name in more ways than Morgan could ever have imagined. His biological father was the same man she had called Daddy for as long as she could remember.

Staring at the image on her screen, she knew she should be processing the information and helping her team stop Carlos before he killed again. But she was so scared they would discover that the monster they were hunting was the step-brother she never knew existed.

Snapping out of it her fingers begun to work - collating a separate file for herself and saving it to her portable hard drive. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but on this occasion she was willing to take a leaf out of Emily's book. Collecting it altogether and boxing it up for later. Don't let this get in the way of your job. She had to move on. Once she had her own copy she filtered through the information she was sending to the team. Everything that was important was there – including more that had arrived while she had been talking to Hotch. She gasped as she flitted through it all, it was him, it had to be – she had done this enough times to spot the tell tale signs. Pausing she looked at the birth certificate – clearly naming Anthony Garcia. Did they really need that? Her conscious could not let her withhold any evidence. Clicking send she closed her eyes as the files winged their way to the team.

Satisfied with what she was passing on, Pen settled back. Waiting to hear when she would be needed next. Her eyes locked onto the image of her step-brother.

The twenty year old was the type of man she would cross the street to avoid. Easily the size of Morgan, but with a menacing air that was even evident in a photo. The glut of multicoloured tattoos, on his olive skin, was grotesque, not elegant like the dark lines of her friend's. He had several piercings and his long dark hair was pulled tightly back into a low ponytail.

However it was the eyes that memorised her. His father's eyes. The eyes of the man she had loved as if he had been her own father. The only difference was that instead of the sparkling, smiling orbs, that she remembered every time she thought of her father, Carlos Garcia's were cold and distant. Not so much the windows to his soul, but all seeing gate keepers.

Penelope Garcia had never believed in pure evil. Everyone had good in them, they had to. Yet looking at Carlos Garcia and hearing all the team had told her about the poor women who had become his unsuspecting victims, she failed to see any redeeming features.

How could this man be any relation to her Dad?


	6. Rebecca

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. I selected Garcia as my character and was assigned Carlos Garcia, her step brother.**

**Sorry I hoped to post this yesterday – but after a late finish at work and a mad dash to get out to a party it didn't happen. The good news is it is nearly finished in real life so then I will hopefully be able to update more frequently (once my amazing beta has had chance to do her thing).**

. . .

Pen was pacing, fuchsia fluffy pen in hand twitching furiously. She kept glancing over at her hard drive, knowing that she shouldn't be doing this. At the moment there wasn't anything else she could do to help the team. So she was itching to dig through the information, trying to make sense of the chaos it had caused her.

Jumping, as the soft tones of Derek Morgan interjected through her thoughts, Pen hurried towards her huddle of computer screens.

"Sorry Hot Stuff, Mama was a little busy. How can I be of assistance?"

"I need more information on Carlos' mother," he rubbed his hands down his face as he spoke. "We think she is the link in all of this. This all started the week after she died. Looking at what you found out about how they moved around over his life we think he is following the same path when finding his victims, we have a hunch that the clubs may be linked to his mother's career too. We have a reported sighting of Carlos hitch hiking and think he may be heading towards Los Angeles. If we can pin point a possible club, then we have a chance to catch him."

"You wish is my command," she added with a cheery smile, hiding her tired and worried mind.

Signing out Pen was glad for the distraction, and also to find out more about the woman who spawned such a child. The temptress who beguiled her 'Daddy' into her trap!

Searching through the new barrage of information instantly at her finger tips Pen was surprised to find her views on the imagined harlot softening almost straight away.

Carlos' mother was no angel, but she was just like the victims, trying to make a living and pay the rent. 'Exotic dancing' had been a regular income and looking at her record prior to Carlos' birth that was all she was. Anthony must have met her on one of his conferences or sales calls. A shiver went down her spine at the thought of the man she had admired spending his free time in clubs watching girls dance. And she used the word 'girl' deliberately, Rebecca Mason, Carlos' mother had been barely five years older than Penelope Garcia when they had met.

A shudder ran through her body as she calculated that the woman had died at forty, the same age as Emily.

Cross referencing the info she had, it was easy to see that everything went wrong in Carlos and Rebecca's life shortly after the accident that killed her mother and step-father. She had caused this! Penelope had ruined another two people's lives by her selfish actions. People she had never known existed.

Sinking her head into her hands Pen sobbed, as if losing her parents at eighteen hadn't been hard enough. Knowing that her stubborn mindedness had lead to that accident and coming to terms with her own guilt and her brothers' anger had been a never ending strain. Now, seventeen years on she could see the further impact. Somehow Anthony Garcia had been supporting Rebecca and her young son, but when he died, no-one knew about his second family and their needs. So that support ended abruptly – Pen wondering if they ever knew what had happened or just assumed he had left them to it.

Within months of the crash Rebecca was picked up the first time for prostitution - her young son obviously party to everything from what the records showed. Pen sat, with her hand over her mouth, scanning the information.

Unable to read anymore, Garcia sent everything through to the team – then, as a side thought, added a copy to her personal file.

. . .

Sat in the car, Derek drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, slumping down a little further as he scanned the crowds. Letting out a deep sigh, he flicked his wrist to glance at his watch. _God he hated stakeouts. _

Derek had the patience, he just preferred direct action. He liked to have the target in his sights and know that a result was imminent. They could spend the whole night sat here, the team in various vantage points, and end up with nothing.

Trying to find comfort Derek fidgeted, clocking a glance at the van over the road that contained Reid and JJ. As he slowly turned once more towards the chic looking club his attention was caught. Watching the hooded figure for a while Derek held his breath. _Could it be?_

. . .

Carlos wanted to blend into the shadows but this place was a little too light and airy for that. It made him uncomfortable. Slowly he moved towards a darker doorway and leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind him. He had never been one to stand out from the crowd. Standing out got you into trouble, correction standing out caused trouble. And Carlos had had more than his fair share of that over the year. Mainly thanks to Paolo.

Paolo attracted attention, hell he demanded it. And God help anyone who didn't give him what he demanded. Paolo didn't take no for an answer, as well Carlos knew. Carlos had learnt long ago it hurt less if he did as Paolo desired. Fighting him was futile.

Rolling his head to one side, Carlos appreciated he had a fair view from the shadowy area he had used as refuges. From here he could see not the main entrance, but the rear exit. The one used by the woman. From here he would see her leave. May be this time it would be her, not another imposter. He needed to find her. He needed her, and only her.

His eyes glistened, his focused blurred. Paolo would be furious if he saw him like this. Carlos couldn't help it. He was tired. He needed rest and a proper meal. _How much longer was he expected to carry on looking for her? _

His head throbbed. The pain increasing by the minute, but it was something Carlos had become use to -learned to live with. Closing his eyes, a stray tear rolled down his cheek.

"Hey Kid," the accompanying firm hand on his shoulder shocked him. His eyes now wide as Carlos realised the size of the man blocking his escape.

"Carlos Garcia?" the deep voice asked, the hand still planted on his shoulder, holding him back against the wall. Paolo would know what to do. He would get out of here, Carlos thought as his eyes darted past the dark man in front of him. Damn this headache – _think Carlos, think_.

"Sorry to have startled you kid, I'm Derek Morgan, FBI, and I want you to come with me. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Carlos shook his head, Paolo would not like this. He was here for a reason.

"Afraid it's not a choice Carlos, you are coming with me," the firm tone was reinforced by a swift movement that ended up with Carlos' face rubbing roughly up against the brick wall as his arms were tugged behind his back and secured.

"No," he said weakly as he was pulled backwards off of the wall, his hood removed, "You don't understand."

"Trust me Carlos," he voice was close to his ear, dark and strong, "You'll have plenty of time to make me understand why you have done what you did."


	7. Just a hunch

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This sorry for the delay but real life tripped me and my beta up – I am hoping to be able to update a bit more often from now on, but as always I want to produce the best I can for you and edits do take time.**

. . .

Derek flicked through the file in front of him, glancing up to watch the interview through the mirrored glass. The kid looked scared, his eyes darting around the room, never settling on Rossi or Prentiss long enough to be classed as eye contact. Something didn't sit right with Derek, but he couldn't decide what it was.

It was like the persona did not fit the body. He wasn't one for stereotypes, but Carlos Garcia was well built, fit, built to fight, and his records showed he knew how. He was more than physically capable of causing the damage they had seen happen to these women. Yet the boy they had brought in didn't look capable of swatting a fly.

Derek pulled his cell from his belt and listen to the ring tone. "Baby Girl, I need you."

"And what for this time?"

Derek paused, surprised by her tone, "Everything ok, Sweetheart?"

"Yeah, all just peachy," Pen replied, kicking herself for letting her guard down. She should have known Derek would pick up on the slightest hint of something being not right. "What magic can my fingers do for you now?" she purred.

Derek wasn't convinced; he knew she was hiding something, maybe another blow out with Kevin.

"You sure, Babe, as I can talk if needs be," Derek's brow furrowed as he listened carefully for tell tale signs over the phone.

"Hunny, I'm just tired - very, very tired. So tell me what it is you desire and I shall grant your wish before I have a quick nap."

"I have been looking through Carlos' records and I can't find any reference to him ever having an accomplice. Is it possible there could be another person we are missing?"

"I'll see what I can do, Hot Stuff, but I didn't know you were looking for someone else. I thought this was what Rossi called a 'slam dunk'."

Derek rubbed the back of his aching neck, as he turned away from the interview and leaned against the counter. "We're not. It's just a hunch."

"Do you think Carlos is innocent?" her pitch raising in hope.

"No. We have forensic evidence that he raped the women, but the rest I don't know. It may be a pair."

Pen nodded as she chewed her lip, constantly scanning the information flashing across her screens. Derek had given her hope then crushed it again. Carlos was a rapist, even if he wasn't a murderer. That was more than bad enough.

"As you say, Angel fish, there is nothing in his police records. Everything he is charged with is solo according to the witness statements. Though this is interesting . . ."

Derek could hear her tapping away.

"There was a witness statement that was withheld as the witness names Carlos as Paolo. Though he gave a positive identification of Carlos he insisted he called him Paolo. In the end one of his teachers confirmed that Carlos had an imaginary friend called Paolo."

"An imaginary friend," Derek spun round looking at the kid in the room once more. "Thanks Sweet Thing."

. . .

Derek slid into the seat opposite Carlos Garcia. He placed the manila file on the table between them, and his hands either side, palms down.

"You need anything? A drink maybe?"

Carlos's head jerked up, that voice, the one that had interrupted him - though if he'd been focused he'd have seen him coming. Somehow the guy looked different in the stark lights of the room they were in.

"Carlos, you remember me, Derek Morgan? I'm here to help you. I want to help."

Carlos' eyes narrowed, no one had ever helped him.

Derek leant forward on the table. "Carlos I don't believe you did this," he tapped one finger on the file between them, "but I believe you know who did."

"Coke," he muttered, his eyes dropping to the closed file.

"Sorry?" Derek asked.

"I'd like a Coke."

"Sure," Derek nodded towards the mirrored wall, knowing one of his colleagues would pick up the request. He knew they were all in watching this one and he just prayed he was right.

"Carlos, we know you were there. So who did this?" Derek's tone was soft and calm.

Carlos shrugged, chewing at his lip nervously. There was something about this man, something reassuring. Carlos didn't trust people, Paolo had taught him not to, but the man in front of him was different.

"Carlos, I can only help you if you help me. Right now my boss is the other side of that wall," Derek jabbed a finger in the direction of the mirror. "He believes you raped and murdered each of these women."

Slowly Derek pulled out three photos, each taken at the crime scene. He spun each photo with the tips of his fingers, pushing them into Carlos' view. Derek watched, observed each minute reaction. The widening of his eyes, the hard gulp as if he was about to vomit.

Closing the gap, Derek waited, wanting Carlos to look him in the eye. When the illusive eye contact came, he asked, "Where do I find Paolo?"

Carlos' eyes widened, fear evident across his face. He physically started to shake.

"Did Paolo do this?" Derek's finger hit hard in the centre of Lisa Potter's photo. "Talk to me Carlos; tell me about Paolo?"

"I . . . I can't," he stammered, looking down to the ground.

"Carlos, talk to me, I can help."

"I . . . I don't know what you are talking about," his head shook wildly.

"Carlos, please," Derek pleaded, reaching across the table.

"He can't, you bastard," Paolo exploded from the spot that had once contained the mild Carlos Garcia. Standing, muscles fully flexed and his clear eyes boring into Derek's, who had rapidly stood, ready.

"Paolo?" Derek commanded, "Sit down."

"You going to make me!"

Derek's eyebrows raised, Paolo was definitely very different to Carlos. He was the fight to Carlos' flight.


	8. Return

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**As promised another update this week to make up for last weeks delay. Hopefully I am starting to answer some of the questions. I am also trying to keep Morgan under control, but he is going to crop up more in this story.**

. . .

Pen busied herself tidying her office. She needed to do something, if she didn't she would go mad. She had caught a few hours sleep since JJ had rung to say that they were wrapping things up and then flying straight back. They had been granted a few days leave to catch up on their much needed sleep, but Garcia had other ideas.

She would wait until her friends arrived back and then leave with them, making her way back to her apartment, everything as normal. Then the cover of these few payback days would give her the solitude she needed to try and figure out the how to right herself, because at the moment now she felt permanently topsy turvy.

Finding out that she had a step-brother and within hours that he was a serial killer, with a disassociate identity disorder was mind blowing.

The cases they handled were hard enough, by the end they always felt drained, but this had added an additional dimension. She wasn't just exhausted; she was mentally washed out too. Yet at the same time her mind buzzed, needing answers to her questions.

. . .

Derek made his way along the corridor, heading to find his Baby Girl. He knew something was up, after all she was usually waiting to greet them. The problem was he just had no idea what – yet.

Leaning against the doorway he watched silently as she frantically moved things and then moved them back again. A sure sign something was up. Penelope's office may look chaotic to an outsider. It's excessive mix of modern technological gadgets and fluffy animals. However to those who knew Pen it was a precise display of work necessity and sanity keeping mementoes. Everything had its place and God help anyone who moved anything so much as an inch.

So when Derek saw her manic attempts to unclutter her precious clutter, he knew his fears were confirmed. There was something eating away at his Baby Girl, and something major from the rate she was fluttering around.

"Hey," he spoke softly as he stepped forward, not wanting to startle her, "What's up?"

Penelope spun on her white stiletto heels, grinning wildly as he approached. "Nothing. Now you are back safe and sound, Hunny." She closed the gap and hugged him.

Derek let her fall into his open arms, kissing her softly on the top of her head. The yellow feather attached to her hair band tickled his nose as he breathed in her fruity scent.

Pulling back slightly, Derek lifted her chin with one finger as he rubbed his thumb down her cheek.

"You don't fool me, Mama, what's going down?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "I'm just beat. I'm just looking forward to a long hot bath with plenty of bubbles and a bucket of red wine. Then I am officially sleeping until we return to work in two days time."

Derek's eyes narrowed; there was something he just couldn't put his finger on.

"Well in that case I better get you home, coz if you're that tired you are not driving," his tone was sincere.

"No really," Pen swatted him lightly, "there is no need."

"There is every need, grab your things and let's go."

Sighing, she picked up her things and followed Derek dutifully. Not willing to put up a fight.

. . .

Sat in the luxurious comfort of Derek's huge SUV, Penelope stared out of the window into the darkness. She felt guilty. She hadn't done anything wrong, but in not telling Derek what she had found out felt like a direct lie. They didn't have secrets; it was one of the things that annoyed Kevin the most, the fact that Derek knew more of her than he ever could.

_But how did she tell him?_

'_Hey Derek guess what? That guy you arrested he is my long lost step-brother that no-one knew existed.'_

So instead she sat the journey out in silence, watching the streets pass.

As they pulled up outside her apartment, Pen gathered up her stuff.

"What? No invite in for coffee?" Derek asked with a characteristic grin as he leant onto his steering wheel.

"You know what, Sugar? I really think I'm gonna skip the bath and head straight to bed. Maybe we can catch up and grab a coffee sometime over the next couple of days."

Pen reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, hoping she was convincing him. The last thing she needed was Derek trying to talk sense in to her while her mind was swimming.

Derek's eyes narrowed once more as he watched, making it obvious he was analysing her.

She smiled weakly, before leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for the ride."

Turning, she made her way out of the vehicle and towards her apartment block's doors. Without looking back she knew he was watching. Derek knew something was up and she knew it was only a matter of time until he pushed to find out what it was.

Once inside her cosy apartment, Pen flopped onto the couch. She pulled out her laptop and hard drive and placed them on top of the magazines strewn across her coffee table. Sighing deeply she looked at them as if they suddenly produce a magical answer to the mess. One that didn't involve the man her team had arrested being her step-brother. Or one that didn't let her know that her Step-father had lived a second life without anyone knowing. However she knew that was not possible, so what she had to decide now was how to move forward.

Opening the laptop and balancing it on her knees she soon had it up and running, the external hard drive attached and the file she had created open. Placing everything down beside her she went to get a bottle of wine and a glass. It was obvious it was going to be a long night.


	9. Confession

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**I can only apologise for the delay but a set of unexpected circumstances between myself and my beta over the last few weeks has lead to the delays. The good news is that we have edited upto chapter 15 to try and make up for it and unsure some more regular updates. Thank you for staying with us.  
**

. . .

Rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, Penelope realised that the thumping sound wasn't internal and was in fact coming from her front door.

_Hell, who could it be?_ She thought; as she shuffled pass the mess she had created in her lounge. Running her fingers through her tousled hair, Pen peered through the peep hole and cursed under her breath.

Derek Morgan.

He may be her best friend, but right now he was the last person she wanted to see.

"I know you are in there Baby Girl, I've brought bagels," he waved the bag in front of the peep hole for her to see.

Penelope sighed, it was too late to do anything other than open the door and face the consequences. Pulling the chain and flicking the lock, Pen held the door towards her as she looked at the smiling face of her friend and colleague.

Immediately his smile faded, as he looked her up and down. Taking in her crumpled yellow dress and wild hair, he made the assumption that her plan for the prior evening had not happened. Stepping into her flamboyant lounge area, Derek paused directly in front of her before glancing around at the strewn paperwork and open laptop. Raising an eyebrow as he looked back at Pen, her face dropped to the floor.

She knew what he was thinking and she couldn't face him. Guilt washed over her once more.

Derek closed the gap, pulling her towards him; "You go a shower and change, I'll sort breakfast and then you are going to tell me what is going on." Before she could step away he kissed the top of her fluffy head.

Looking up she blinked her tired eyes, opening her mouth to protest a single finger silenced her.

"Now!"

She nodded and made her way towards her bedroom.

. . .

Stepping back into the lounge, through the beaded curtain, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon bagels hit her and Pen realised how hungry she was. Looking over the counter that divided her lounge and kitchen she smiled as Derek busied himself preparing breakfast.

"You don't have to do this," she spoke softly as she leaned against the surface.

"Yes I do," Derek turned to face Penelope on her first word and by the time she had finished was directly in front of her once more, looking down at her pale face, "Dare I ask if you slept at all last night?"

Pen shrugged, "A little, I guess."

His firm hands felt warm on her shoulders; "Let's eat, and then we talk."

Penelope knew there was no avoiding it. She would have to tell Derek the whole story. The problem was telling him how she felt, because after last night she was more confused than ever. Though she had decided one thing, and Derek would not be able to convince her otherwise, she needed to meet Carlos Garcia.

. . .

"So . . ." Derek spoke smoothly, his deep tones reassuring as he lounged back on the couch, a warming mug of coffee in one hand.

Penelope shrugged once more, uncomfortable with the situation she was about to explain.

"Well, I can see it has something to do with Carlos Garcia," he continued for her, "care to explain what?"

"Honestly, no!" but she knew that would not be accepted as an answer, "but I will. Carlos Garcia is my Step-brother."

She paused allowing the information to sink in. She noted the change of expression on Derek's face as he processed what she told him. Taking a deep breath she continued.

"I never knew he existed until this week," penelope began to babble, "until you asked me to research him. As you know Anthony Garcia was my Step-father. I called him Dad, as he always had been. My biological father had died of cancer shortly after I was born. Anthony had helped my Mom through it all they had become close and married when I was five. Anthony adopted us all, so we carried his name. I don't remember my real father, Anthony is all I remember."

Derek knew all of this already, but he sat and listened as if he was hearing it for the first time.

"He was a sale rep for an ICT company, it was how I caught the bug," she snorted slightly, obviously a memory flashing through her mind, "he always had the latest gadgets before they were available to the public. Dad said I was a natural. Occasionally in the vacations, when I got older he would let me travel across state with him, demonstrating the samples he had."

Pen curled her legs up under her as she stared into her near empty dotty coffee mug.

"I never imagined that he had a second life. That he had another child elsewhere. From what I can find out he was supporting Carlos and Rebecca, until the day he died. I don't know if Mom knew and I can only assume my brothers don't know either. He must have met Rebecca on one of his trips south, and well I'd rather not think of the details that led to baby Carlos Garcia. Yet I can't help thinking back, did he change? Was he different when he came home? Was he away more? How could her Derek? How could he have a secret life?"

Derek hadn't said a word. He had just listened. Now he moved forward, placing his mug down on the cluttered coffee table as he pulled his friend into a hug.

Stroking her still damp hair, he held her tight as the tears flowed; he knew she needed this release.

"Baby," he soothed, whispering into her ear.

"I . . . I need . . . I need to meet him," she stammered between sobs.


	10. The First Time

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**As promised more Carlos in this chapter. This is a few days after the last chapter – but wanted to focus on Pen and Carlos not her telling everyone else.**

**. . .**

Pen paced the length of the waiting area. It had been a whistle stop few days between telling Derek all and finding herself waiting to meet her Step-brother. The process had blurred - from telling Kevin, then Hotch, to booking the flights and arriving here, with Derek in tow.

Now she was panicking. She knew what Carlos had done to those poor women. The only saving grace being she was currently in one of her blonde periods and seriously doubted she would ever be a redhead again!

Derek watched her pace, he had tried to calm her, but was now willing to sit back and just let her know he was here.

"Penelope Garcia," the clipped voice of the older man sounded loud in the silence of the waiting room they occupied, as he walked in.

"Yes," she stopped abruptly and faced him, her hands wringing the handle of her zebra print purse.

"The good news is that Carlos is available today and he has agreed to talk to you. Since he was admitted to our care we have seen more of Paolo than we have of Carlos, so you are lucky," his mouth formed a forced tight smile, "I really don't know what you expect to gain from this Miss Garcia. Carlos is a very secretive young man. He is very troubled and the slightest threat seems to be enough to trigger the transformation into Paolo. We have made little progress so far due to this. It appears that the Paolo personality, although extremely aggressive, was probably brought on by some childhood trauma. The stress of which forced his mentality to create this protective personality to defend him. Carlos appears to have no recall of the events Paolo is responsible for. This is typical, in fact key to those diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID."

Pen was nodding blindly, God knew she had researched DID until she was blue in the face. There wasn't an online article, blog, wiki or forum she hadn't visited. She understood that Carlos and Paolo were two completely separate personalities living within the same host, and that in theory one was not aware of what the other was doing.

"Well in that case, you have completed all relevant paperwork; I can take you through to meet him," the Doctor flicked through his clipboard, "Stay calm and quiet. Keep out of Carlos' personal space, let him come to you. Don't ask too many questions – he will feel under attack. I will stay close by and pull you out if I am not happy with how things are going."

"Okay," Pen forced a smile as she stepped towards the door.

Derek stood too.

"No Hunny, I need to do this on my own," the same forced smile, the one that ended at her lips, while her eyes remained dull, "I know you are here and that is keeping me strong. I'll be back soon."

Pen held her head high and strode out of the door.

. . .

As the door opened into the stark white room, Penelope followed Doctor Benningham in to meet Carlos.

"Carlos," he spoke softly, his hands resting in his trouser pockets, "This is Penelope. I told you about her this morning. She has come to visit you. Is that still okay?"

Carlos faced the blank wall, but nodded his agreement.

"Okay then Carlos, I am going to be just outside the door. If you want Penelope to leave you only have to say so and she will."

Again a single nod.

Penelope shuffled passed and stood by a metal table bolted to the floor.

"Hi Carlos," she paused, "I'm Penelope, Penelope Garcia."

No response.

"I don't know what Dr Benningham told you this morning, but I am you step-sister," she swallowed, calming herself before continuing; her work with the victims of crime coming in useful. In fact the more she had found out about DID the more she felt Carlos was a victim in all of this. He hadn't killed or raped the women, Paolo had. She knew she had to treat them as two separate people, even if they were sharing the same body.

"Can I sit down Carlos?" Pen asked.

His now characteristic nod, but nothing more.

Pen perched onto the edge of the anchored chair, drawing her knees together and lacing her fingers on her lap. _What the hell did she say now?_ Penelope wasn't usually one to be lost for words, in fact usually the opposite, saying much more than was necessary.

"I have brought some photos with me," she reached in to the pocket of her amber coloured cardigan. Dr Benningham had made her leave her purse outside, but she had insisted on the photos, "They are of me and my, I mean our brothers. Guess you didn't know you had a family. I only found out about you last week, so guess this is all new to you too. Do you want to see them?"

No response.

Penelope wanted to ask again, she wanted to get him to look, but remembered what she had been told.

"I can leave them here for you," she said placing the selection of images down on the cold table, "It's obvious which is me, I'm the only girl. Paul, he's the eldest and blond like me. Ian is the middle one of the boys, lovely curly brown hair. Of course he hates it and has it cuts as short as he can. Then there is 'Little Joey'. I have no idea while we all call him 'Little Joey', I'm younger than he is and, as you will see form the pictures; he isn't the smallest of us. Just one of those silly family things I guess."

Penelope paused, watching Carlos the whole time. She could swear he just twitched, not a full turn, but the slightest hint of movement.

"I spoke to the 'boys' before I flew out. I don't live in California anymore; I forgot to tell you that. I'm meeting them for dinner tonight. Maybe one day you would like to meet them too."

That twitch again, a definite movement, but nothing she could interpret.

"I have taken a week's leave," she continued, nervously twisting the cuff of her cardi sleeve, "I would like to visit you again tomorrow if that is okay?"

Carlos moved so fast, Pen wasn't aware until his fist slapped hard on the table, the metallic ring echoing around the sparse room.

"What you want Bitch?" Paolo asked his voice rough as his darkened eyes bore into hers.

Penelope gulped, automatically pushing herself back against the cool chair, her eyes wide. She heard the door open and her name called, but she couldn't move- frozen under his stare.

"Miss Garcia, please, it's time to leave," she recognised the doctor's voice.

Penelope nodded, standing slowly and inching herself out from under the table. Stepping towards the door she maintained eye contact the whole time. As she rested her hand on the edge of the door, she looked directly at Paolo.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow Carlos."

Then she left.


	11. Meet the Family

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**This is written for the OC challenge on CCOAC. This chapter takes a step away from Carlos, but there will be more with him. As I am new to this OC stuff I am hoping I have made the other Garcia brothers realistic as I can in one chapter.  
**

**. . .**

Sat at the round table in the quiet Italian restaurant the group made general chit chat as they awaited the arrival of Ian, Penelope's middle brother. Derek was doing a fantastic job of distracting her brother's attention away from her nervous disposition and onto recent football games and such 'boy talk;.

Pen glanced over her shoulder, as she heard the door open. Ian came blustering through, looking more than a little disheveled. He spotted them immediately and made his way over.

"Sorry guys, but this is our first time away from home with the twins and to say they are a little unsettled is an understatement. I couldn't just leave Kathy in the hotel room with two screaming banshees. This family life thing is a lot harder than the diaper ads show," he made his way to the spare chair and sat, stealing a gulp of wine from his sister's glass. "Don't mind do you, Sissy?"

She shook her head. She had always had a special bond with Ian. Then she spotted how his eyes narrowed as he took in Derek Morgan sat beside her.

"You don't look much like a Kevin to me," he smiled waving his sister's glass in the direction of the dark skinned profiler.

"Oh he's not," Pen jumped in as Derek laughed. "This is Derek."

"Ah," he said in a very knowing way, finishing the contents of the glass he had taken possession of. "The Derek Morgan! And here I was thinking this little family gathering was going to give us chance to finally check out the guy that has captured our little sis' heart. Or are we doing that anyway?"

Pen flushed crimson at the none too subtle hint at her feelings for Derek. If only people could understand the true meaning of platonic.

"Dare I ask what you have heard?" She heard the soothing tone of her friend's inquiry and cringed at the answer her brother may give.

"Only that we have a lot to be grateful for in you keeping Lil' Sis safe," he smiled pouring another glass for himself and Penelope from the bottle in the centre of the table.

Derek raised his glass and smiled back.

"So then, have I missed the grand reasoning behind your insistence that we meet you here in Los Angeles?" Ian asked casually.

Pen shook her head looking around her brothers. She had been deliberately vague about the reasoning behind wanting them to meet up, but equally insistent that they all attend. She took a deep breath and reached under the table for Derek's hand.

"There is no easy way to say this, but we have a step-brother."

Silence feel across the table as the siblings shared glances at each other before their eyes settled back on her.

"Guess this is where you want me to start at the beginning?" she replied with a grimace.

. . .

Two courses later and a long explanation of all that Penelope had discovered, and they were back to the original silence.

"Say something, please," Pen begged, eyeing the waiter moving towards them with dessert.

"You got me to travel all this way to explain I have a fruit loop step-brother arrested and charged for rapes and murders he has no idea he committed and you think I should feel sorry for him as all he was doing was looking for his mom who died a month ago? Really Pen, I kinda thought that working for the FBI might have toughened you up a bit," Joey snapped, unimpressed with her revelation.

Pen heart sank. Derek squeezed her hand to reassure her.

"Joey," she squeaked, "Carlos is the victim here. He has suffered a horrendous upbringing all because of me."

"Oh now we get it," Paul grumbled, "Poor Penny has run out of sympathy, so we dig up some shit from the past to make up for it."

"What? No!" Pen sniped back. "This isn't about me, it is about Carlos. Until Dad died he was supporting Rebecca and Carlos. When that ended the trouble begun. Carlos' doctors are looking for traumatic events that may have caused his personality to split. How about watching your mother have sex with numerous strangers, does that count? Or the fact that some of those strangers beat him? All because his mother could no longer afford to feed and clothe him without turning tricks. He was torn between adoring his mother and hating her. Carlos adored her and still does, which is why the doctors believe he was hunting down look a likes, and Paolo hated her, he high-jacked the situation killing the woman who represented the woman he hated. It's all in the reports. Carlos may never be charged for these crimes as he has no idea they even happened and Paolo is clearly insane. Don't you see we owe it to Dad to help Carlos now that we know he exists?"

Joey and Paul huffed in tandem.

"We owe him nothing," Paul answered definitely. "Anthony was not our dad, and Carlos is no relative of ours."

Derek bit his tongue, he could tell from the intense grip Pen had on his arm that she did not want him wading in to defend her. Sometimes he forgot just how strong Penelope Garcia was.

"Paul, I am sorry you feel that way and that you feel I have wasted your time. However I feel this is important, which is why I am in town for a week and will be visiting Carlos each day that I am here. I met him today, I can't say it was a success, but I'm not ready to give up on him yet. I just thought if he had someone closer when I left, then maybe - just maybe we could make a difference."

Joey threw his napkin onto the table. "Penny, just be glad you share nothing more than a name with this guy – though to be honest I'm starting to wonder how many sandwiches short of a picnic you are, too."

Standing up, the stocky younger brother left without another word.

Penelope looked at Paul, who shook his head and followed his brother. She bit her lip as tears rimmed her tired eyes. Suddenly she was aware of the feeling of a hand encasing hers on her left. She looked down to see Ian's hand over hers on the crisp white linen table cloth.

"You're one brave girl, you know that?"

Pen shook her head, the first tear rolling down her cheek.

Ian squeezed her hand gently as he beckoned the waiter over. "So, is there anymore you want to tell me about our brother before I agree to meet him with you."

Derek smiled, he knew from the start there was something he liked about the guy.


	12. Acknowledgment

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**I can't keep Morgan out of this as I just feel he would be right there for her, but I am trying to keep the focus on Carlos and Pen. Not Derek and Pen.**

. . .

Sitting in the same steely grey waiting room, Pen was calmer than the day before. She still had no idea if she was doing the right thing, but there was no way on earth she could live with herself if she hadn't tried.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she muttered, half to herself and half to her best friend, who was sat patiently beside her.

"One of the many things I love about you," he teased.

Pen pouted. In the last couple of days she had been called crazy, or something similar, by Emily, Kevin and now two of her three brothers. She was starting to wonder if they were all right.

Derek took in the sadness in her eyes, and realised she was being serious.

"No, Penelope, you are not crazy," he spoke softly, holding her chin up so her eyes met his. "You're kind and forgiving and generous to a fault, but you are not crazy. Not in the way you are referring to. You have mad ideas and eccentric ways – but that is you, Baby Girl. It's what makes you – you, and I love it," Derek nuzzled his chin into her fluff of blonde hair as he pulled her closer for a reassuring hug.

"You sure know how to sweet talk the women – don't cha?"

Derek smiled, glad he could be here for her after he had seen the lack of support Paul and Joey had offered her the night before. It was no wonder that Pen wasn't as close to her family anymore as he was to his. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like not to know if you have the support of your siblings or not. Sarah and Desiree were there for him – whatever was happening.

. . .

Cautiously Penelope entered the room. Carlos was sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, back against the pure white wall. His head lolled backwards and rolled towards her as she came in.

"Hi," she smiled cheerily, "me again."

His cold, distant eyes tracked her movements toward the cool metallic table and chair, which she had sat at the day before. She sat down sideways on the chair so she could remain facing Carlos. She reached across at the neatly piled photos that she had left with Carlos the day before. She couldn't help but wonder if he had looked at the photos or if someone else had stacked them for him. Flicking through she found an image of her and Ian, she smiled, remembering it had been taken the weekend she had come home to meet the twins.

"Remember me telling you I was going to meet my - sorry, _our_ brothers last night? Well, I did, and this is Ian and he would like to come along later this week with me to meet you. What do you say to that?"

Carlos didn't say anything, yet his sad eyes had fixated on the photo Pen held out in her hand.

"So it's not a 'no', then," she added positively.

Penelope continued to talk at Carlos for nearly an hour. She paused regularly to allow him chance to respond but was not put off by his eternal silence. Carlos didn't move, but he didn't take his eyes off her either. He gaze wasn't completely glossed over; she could tell he was paying attention. In her eyes she could see that today was better than yesterday. First of all she had lasted longer and second he was facing her not the wall. As Dr Benningham entered the room, Penelope felt sad that her time was over. Standing she took a step towards Carlos – stopping abruptly as she noticed his knees hitch higher up his chest.

"Sorry," she said, taking a step back. "I just wanted to say goodbye, and that I would like to come back tomorrow, if that is okay?"

Pen could have sworn she saw a faint nod of his head, though she knew it was probably a figment of her imagination.

. . .

Carlos hugged his knees tight to his chest, his arms going white where his fingernails dug in to maintain their vice like grip. The temptation to get up and collect up the photographs she had left strewn across his table was almost too much. Yet touching them made it real, meant he had to acknowledge that the strange multicoloured woman who told him tales of a family far, far away, was real.

But she couldn't be real. He had no family. He was alone. No-one liked him. No-one wanted him. Help, that wasn't something people offered him. Sat watching the images on the flat surface he could feel the anger start to bubble under the surface –_who was she to come in here and try and make it all alright?_

Standing swiftly, Paolo stalked towards the table, swiping up as many of the images as he could in one go. Cursing profusely he tore the photos into pieces. Carlos didn't need these, he didn't need that bitch clouding his mind with her happily ever after nonsense. He scattered the pieces like confetti across the room, before he kicked the hard steel leg of the table, kicking again and again until it hurt. They didn't need her, they didn't need anyone.

Paolo moved around the room looking for anything he could attack – the wall, his bed, the pillow, even the door took a pounding. Slowly his temper subsided, as he paced back and forth across the litter covered floor. He was getting tired, he needed to rest, but he needed to think. He had helped Carlos before, he could do it again. He just needed the opportunity. Carlos would never survive without him, and Paolo knew that. It was what he did, and he did it well.

. . .

Penelope linked arms with Derek as they walked to dinner, feeling slightly smug - the warm evening air making the wander to find a restaurant all the more pleasant.

"So, what's with the big smile, Mama? You sure look pleased with yourself."

"I am," she smirked. "I don't know I just felt I made a connection today. Nothing grand, just that Carlos was listening."

Derek moved his arm to loop it lazily over her shoulder. "Good. Just don't get your hopes up too high, DID is unpredictable, you know that," his tone showing the concern he had for her.

"I know, I know," she smiled as she rested her head on his strong shoulder as they walked along.


	13. Nightmares

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**Thank you for the feedback - I really appreciate the support.  
**

. . .

Carlos paced the room; his head hurt and come to think of it so did his foot and his hands. It was too dark to tell, but he was fairly sure that his hands were swollen. He had woken abruptly having had a horrid dream. He couldn't remember it all, just snippets and that was enough. It concerned Carlos what his imagination could create at times.

He remembered seeing his mom; they had been at one of the many apartments they had shared, he vaguely recognised it but was unsure which town it was – to be honest over the years they had blurred into each other.

Each apartment had been as bad as the previous. The smell of dampness filled the air, tatty furniture that looked like it had been rescued from a bonfire, noisy neighbours that screamed and shouted through the night – all in all he had hated each equally.

But never the less she was there. He could see her, but knew he couldn't go to her. He must never go to her when she was working. It was the rules she said – over and over again. He had broken the rules three times.

The first time he had been thirsty. He had called out to her but she hadn't come through, even though he knew she was there. He had heard her come back in. Carlos had no idea how old her was – four, five maybe. He knew now he wasn't old enough to understand what he saw, or why his Mom shouted at him to get back to bed when all he wanted was a drink. The man that was with her on the couch was angry, he remembered that. He also remembered him saying something about her not getting paid. Though that hadn't stopped him screwing her, Carlos thought to himself, years on and wiser to what his mother had been doing.

The second time her had been about eight, he guessed, he had never been sure of his age growing up. School would tell him from time to time, especially if he was in school on his birthday – but that wore off as he got older. This time he had felt sick, he was hot and sweaty and Carlos remembered holding his hand over his mouth to stop himself from vomiting as he coughed. He felt much worse by the time the guy she was with had finished. He hadn't liked a 'sniveling kid' interrupting his entertainment. Carlos had taken a beating for breaking the rules that time. He had vomited too, all over the guys feet – that had made things worse.

The final time he had wanted to help his mom. He had heard her scream and rushed through without thinking. Crouching over her, with his hands on her throat had been a huge man. Carlos was still a young boy and skinny with it, barely twelve years old. He had picked up his baseball bat – his one prized possession. He remembered taking a swing at the man, shouting at him to leave his Mom alone. The man had. He had turned his attention to Carlos. Swatting the bat away easily, he had pinned Carlos up against the wall.

"Fancy a bit, do you?" he'd growled. Carlos remembers his mom screaming and hitting the man on the back, begging him to let go.

He had briefly backhanded her and send her flying into a crumpled heap on the floor. Then he had held Carlos. He had held him as he bent him over the couch, his weigh pinning him against the musty surface. He had held him as he removed his stripy PJ bottoms, no matter how hard he had fought. He had held until he had finished. Then he let go, laughing as he gathered his things and left. Even without the weight upon him Carlos could not move. He was numb. He had sunk to the floor and cried.

Carlos had never interrupted his mom again. No matter what he heard or saw or wanted. As soon as he was old enough he would stay out – not coming home until he knew she was finished and in bed. She didn't seem to care where he was or what he was doing.

Yet in his dream it had definitely been her. Her long red hair flowing over the end of the bed, so long it almost touched the ground. He knew he shouldn't go in, but she was alone, it was safe. He didn't remember entering the room in the dream; just he was suddenly by her side. Her hair was across her face, so he had moved it gently, so he could she her once more.

But it wasn't her, it wasn't his mom. It was that woman who had visited; he tried hard to remember her name. But it was her – as he had brushed his mother's fiery hair aside there had been blonde waves underneath and those shining eyes stared blankly up at him.

Carlos' breathing became rapid and shallow as he recounted the nightmare. As he had looked down at that cheerful woman lying on his mom's bed. He could get no response from the woman that never stopped talking. Shaking her he had noticed how limp and cold she was. Then, as he looked down at her, he noticed the red stain seeping out wider around her - her blood leaving her body and soaking into the bedclothes, turning everything scarlet. He glanced at his hands, covered in the same vivid red. He had her blood on his hands!

Carlos sank into the corner of his room, racking his fingers through his long greasy hair. He rocked slightly, banging his aching head backwards against the wall behind him. _How could his mind do this? _It was evil, the one person who had shown him some attention.

Tears streaked his cheeks as he sat huddled in the corner – afraid of what his subconscious may torture him with next.

"Penelope," he whispered softly as he slumped into a deep sleep.


	14. Together

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**It is great to hear your guesses over what you think is coming up and your views on Carlos as I have never really focused on an OC like this. A big thank you to everyone who has encouraged me and supported me with this story.  
**

. . .

"You know, Hot Stuff," Penelope breezed as she went to get out of the rental car, "Why don't you go and find something fun to do today? You don't have to spend your week off work chasing me around like a lost puppy. You're in California, I am sure you can find something more entertaining than sitting and waiting for me."

Derek smiled. "You don't get rid of me that easily, Sweet Thing."

Penelope reached over and hugged him. "Then consider it a mission. I want something super yummy for lunch, my treat, you just need to find the best place for an alfresco lunch."

Derek sighed. "I don't like leaving you alone here."

"Handsome, I know," she patted the back of his hand as she spoke, "but I'm a big girl and I hate leaving you in that waiting room for hours on end. If I finish early I'll ring you and you can come and pick me up."

Derek's brow furrowed. He really didn't like it – but he knew the determined look that set on Pen's face. It was the same one he had seen just over a week ago when she had decided she had to meet her step-brother.

"Okay, but I will come back as soon as I have found somewhere and wait for you inside."

"Deal," Pen nodded as she exited the car.

. . .

Carlos felt groggy and stiff. He ached all over and his knuckles were black and blue. He hated times like this. The times he had no explanation for what had happened – unknown injuries, blanks in his life and all other sorts of unexplained events.

Looking round the pristine room, as he lay on the hard bed, Carlos tried hard to remember what had woke him in the night. It was a dream; he knew it was a dream. It was always a dream. Stretching, Carlos stood slowly, his head spinning. Putting a steadying hand on the wall Carlos paused - taking a deep breath as he waited for the nausea to wash over him.

As he looked up his eyes settled on the table. Everything was neatly stacked, his notepads with pens on top, magazines in a separate pile, then the photos. That was what caught his attention. The pile was smaller. Where had they gone?

His eyes scanned round the room frantically they had to be around somewhere. Whoever was constantly tidying his room needed to stop messing with his stuff! There was so much about this place he just couldn't recall. Hell, he couldn't even remember getting here, where ever here was?

. . .

Penelope waited for Dr Benningham by fiddling with her glittery purse.

"Miss Garcia," his now recognisable tone sounded as he entered, "I need to speak to you before we consider your meeting with Carlos today."

Penelope's eyes narrowed, she didn't like the sound of this, not one bit.

"We found these this morning when we went in to check on Carlos," getting straight to the point he handed Penelope what looked like a bag of confetti, "He had pretty much turned over his room and was found by the attendants asleep in the corner of his room."

Penelope shook her head slowly as she realised the contents of the bag was her photos she had left for Carlos. Tears rimmed the bottoms of her eyes, blinking wildly she tried to get of rid them.

"We believe he suffered a second breakdown last night, it was nothing like we have seen since he joined us. He has been fairly consistent in maintaining one personality or the other. However we believe he's starting to switch erratically between the two."

"What does that mean?" Penelope subconsciously drew her purse closer to her. Instantly, she wished she hadn't picked today to send Derek away.

"I want you to reconsider your visit today…until we have done further observations. We have now fitted CCTV in his room so that we can constantly monitor his actions."

"You mean you weren't already?" Penelope questioned.

"We don't like to infringe on patients privacy unless totally necessary."

"Oh," was the only answer Pen could think of. "Look I'm here now. Let's do it – after all you can see everything now can't you?"

Dr Benningham nodded. "If you are sure, but I would recommend that you give it a miss today."

Penelope stood and smiled, squaring her shoulders. "Let's do this!"

. . .

Cautiously she opened the door, her head rounding the corner as she looked at Carlos sitting at the table. He was thumbing through the few remaining photos. He glanced up at her.

"Hi," she whispered, "can I come in?"

This time it was a definite nod.

Closing the door behind her, Penelope stepped slowly towards the table. "May I sit with you?"

Another clear nod, he was definitely communicating with her.

Penelope slid into the seat opposite him, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"So how are you feeling?" Pen smiled.

Carlos shrugged, placing the photos down on the table, laid out in an arch, like a hand of cards. Watching him, Pen guessed it was a silly question.

"Dr Benningham told me you had a bad night, want to tell me about it?" Pen spoke softly.

Carlos' eyes shot up to meet hers for the first time. Fear evident in the wide orbs. Silence fell across the room.

Pen held her breath; she knew this moment was pivotal, if she could get him to open up, to trust her. Watching him watching her, she knew he was sizing her up. Pen smiled, hoping it reassured him.

"I . . . I have dreams . . . bad dreams," his voice was barely more than a whisper, as his eyes dropped to the shiny surface, shame riddling his face.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pen let her tone match his, clasping her hands to resisting the urge to reach out to him - her training supporting victims of crime being essential now.

"They scare me," he admitted.

Pen nodded solemnly.

"They scare me because I can't remember them in the morning. So much happens that I can't explain. Like this . . ."

Carlos laid his large hands flat on the table, his bruised knuckles swollen and obviously sore.

Pen bit her lip as she automatically reached out a hand to sooth the pained digits. She had read plenty of information regarding DID and knew that Carlos was probably totally unaware of Paolo, but nothing prepared her for the reality. How hopeless his condition was, being unable to explain what has happened to you. She withdrew slightly as he flinched from her touch, before resting her hands lightly on his. Their eyes met, locked, but nothing more was said.

Together they sat in silence.


	15. Celebrations

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**As always your reviews and support is fully appreciated and makes me smile - thank you.  
**

. . .

Practically skipping into the waiting room, Pen grabbed Derek as he stood to greet her. Hugging him tight, she smiled up at his dark questioning eyes.

"It was brilliant, we talked, I mean really talked. Both of us - not like before when I rattled on for hours and he sat there. He answered my questions. Oh Derek . . . I . . ." she gushed, hands waving frantically in every direction.

"You need to breathe," he laughed, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"But . . . today was so different. We connected. I have another brother! And Carlos also wants to meet Ian tomorrow. Isn't this great?"

Pen was practically jumping up and down on the spot, as Derek placed his firm hands on her shoulders to try and steady her excitement. Her enthusiasm was usually contagious, but Derek was concerned. There was so much that could go wrong, the quick change was a worry.

"Come on Sweet Thing," he chortled nervously, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the building.

. . .

Sat opposite the hot pink flurry that was his best friend, Derek had to sigh. She had barely stopped talking to take in a mouthful or two of the salad she had ordered for lunch.

". . . but it is so sad," she said for the umpteenth time, "He has no idea what Paolo has done. Literally through his whole life he has these huge blanks and I bet if I go back through his records I can match them to every event he has been convicted of, and probably some he hasn't."

Derek shook his head as he placed his napkin down on the table. At least he had enjoyed his lunch. He had no doubt that Carlos' criminal record was really Paolo's doing, but Garcia couldn't physically separate the two personalities like this. He knew this was going to end in tears.

"Baby," he spoke softly, as she paused long enough to attempt to eat the piece of chicken she had speared ten minutes ago, "Carlos has obviously had a rough life and with his mental health issues it is not going to get any easier, but he is in the best place. They will help him more than anyone else."

She nodded as she chewed.

"If they can prove that Carlos has no awareness of Paolo and his actions then he cannot be prosecuted for the murders."

"Carlos is innocent," Pen shot, "Paolo is the guilty man here."

"Unfortunately they are both the same man. Carlos will remain where he, and everyone else, is safe for the rest of his life. DID has no cure. Treatment will take years. He may not build a relationship with a therapist for a long time yet," Derek looked sadly at his friend, he hated bursting her bubble.

"I know," she said, trying to hide the sob, "I know."

Pen threw her napkin down, pushing her salad bowl away. Folding her arms defensively across her chest she fought the tears. She had learnt so much from Carlos this afternoon, and knew it would be possible to find out more, so much more.

"Hey," Derek interjected, "I am just trying to keep things in perspective. What happened today was great - a real breakthrough - but I don't want you to get your hopes up too high, and we only have a couple of days left. Tomorrow he may be back to ignoring you. You have to take each moment as it comes."

Derek reached across the table, hoping she would release her hand for him to hold. However she remained adamant in her defensive stance.

"Pen?" he questioned lightly.

"I know, I just wanted to enjoy the moment first," she pouted.

"Then we shall," he smiled as she finally relaxed a little. "let's have something wicked for dessert!"

. . .

Set opposite the doctor, Paolo stared at the man. The man was trying so hard to look relaxed it was almost comical. He was so tempted to lunge forward and make the man jump just for the hell of it.

"Carlos, how do you feel about your visit with Miss Garcia today?" he asked flatly.

Paolo grimaced; just the mention of her name was enough to make him sick. The things he'd like to do to that interfering do-gooder – he sure would wipe the sweet smile off her pretty face.

"Are you looking forward to her coming back again tomorrow?" the doctor tried a different tack.

Paolo nodded – _oh yeah he was looking forward to her coming back, so much._

The doctor shifted slightly, smiling as he did. "That's good then. You are enjoying her company then?"

The doctor tried to assign meaning to his nod.

_No yet, _Paolo thought, _but he intended to soon. He intended to enjoy every moment of it._ Again he nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Inside he knew he had to remain calm. If he blew now they may well stop her coming. He had to convince them that he was that sap – Carlos Garcia. If they only knew it the truth would ruin everything he had planned.

The doctor smiled again.

"Great, how do you feel about her bringing her brother?"

Paolo's eyes widened. _She was bringing someone else __–__ shit._

"Are you okay with her bringing her brother?" the doctor asked again.

The anger inside him bubbled dangerously. _Hell this could ruin everything he had spent the afternoon planning._

She had left when Carlos had told her he had a headache and needed to rest. She had left him curled up on the bed, feeling like his head was going to split in two. Paolo hated the weakness that was Carlos Garcia – no wonder everyone walked all over him.

Paolo had woken sometime later, the plan clear in his mind. He knew what he was going to do and how he was going to do it.

"No," he spoke clearly, "I've changed my mind. Just her!"

The doctor nodded, scribbling down something on his clipboard.

"That's fine Carlos, that's fine. You have had a good day, Miss Garcia was very happy today when she left and I know she is looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

_Really, I__'__ll soon change that,_ Paolo smirked, barely containing his excitement.

"And it looks like you are too. Let's call it a night and I hope you have a better sleep then last night," the doctor rose, signally the end of their conversation.

Paolo continued to smile – he knew he would have a better night's sleep - after all he had something very sweet to dream about.


	16. Paolo's Plan

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**Sorry for the confusion of posting the wrong chapter to this story - shouldn't post late at night! So here goes.  
**

. . .

Pen flopped down into the chair she had barely risen from, Ian still standing as they faced Dr Benningham.

"I'm sorry Miss Garcia," he continued, "but we must respect Carlos' wishes. He made it quite clear last night to my colleague that he no longer wished Mr Garcia to visit with you today. I feel for us to break this trust that has only just begun to develop could jeopardise his future treatment. It is important that our team of care staff and therapists can build a relationship with him. Yesterday's session was too much of a breakthrough in comparison to all we have done so far."

Pen nodded, but the disappointment was evident on her face. Ian sat down next to her and squeezed her hand.

"Hey Sis, don't worry, there is always tomorrow. You had a great conversation with him yesterday, go in there today for us all and show him that there are people out here who care," Ian's tone was soft and reassuring, "Beside's I'll be here until you are finished, so if he changes his mind again, just call me in."

Turning to face her big brother, she gave him a huge hug before smiling. _Thanks,_ she mouthed, before standing and following Dr Benningham down the familiar route to Carlos' room.

"So he talked to you last night too?" Pen asked casually as they walked the long blank corridors.

"Not me personally, but one of my colleagues. He wasn't as open as he was with you, by all accounts, but the fact that he answered any of our questions was a development. Even if most of his answers were non-verbal."

"Oh," Pen commented as they closed in on the now familiar door to Carlos' room, "Well lets hope we can have another success today."

Knocking, she waited before entering. Poking her head around the door she beamed as Carlos turned to face her; "Hi Hunny."

"Hi," he muttered, his eyes meeting hers straight away.

Pen shuddered slightly, before chiding herself – _pull yourself together girl._ Yet there was something uncomfortable in his stare. Even when they talked yesterday he had barely made eye contact with her, he had watched her for sure, but not meet her eyes for more than a fleeting moment. However today his eyes were boring into her!

Straightening her dress slightly, she entered the room, glancing around as she did so.

"You had a spring clean, or something," she joked, noticing that things were not where she had come to expect them to be. The table was clear of all the usual clutter – the magazines were spread out on the bed, the notepads and pens nowhere in sight. Then she spotted the photos, attached to the wall behind him.

"The Doctor thought it might be nice for me to personalise my room," he smiled, the corners of his mouth twisting slightly as he did.

Pen shivered, she didn't know what was making her so on edge, but there was something she just couldn't put her finger on.

"Hey that's great," she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster, stepping up to the photo display and looking over his handy work. Glancing over the images her blood froze. In each picture that contained her, her face was scratched out. Spinning she went to head for the door, but stopped as Paolo stood over it, a wicked grin on his face.

"Paolo," she whispered.

He nodded, before stepping forward and reaching for one of the two metallic chairs.

Pen gasped as the chair moved, she could have sworn they were bolted down, but this was no longer the case. She watched in horror as he used it to jam the handle of the door shut.

"Paolo, I am here to help you," she spoke more calmly then she felt, frantically looking around the room to try and work out where the CCTV was hidden.

Paolo snorted turning back to her; "I don't need your help bitch," he sneered.

Pen swallowed hard, backing herself against the wall as she watched him stalk towards her.

"Think that should buy us enough time for what I have planned," as he spoke one heavy hand landed on the wall beside her head.

Pen wanted to scream, she wanted to kick and shout, but her body wasn't responding. It wasn't doing any of the things her mind was yelling.

Planting the other hand firmly the other side of her head, he leant in close, breathing deeply; "You smell as sweet as you act, do you taste as sweet too?" With which he closed the gap, licking along her jaw line.

"Don't," Pen tried to push him, but he didn't budge. Ducking down to escape under his strong arms she was halted by a sharp tug on her hair.

"Not so fast, I haven't even begun yet."

Holding her back against the wall by a fist full of her blonde curls, he laughed, before he winced as her knee made contact with his groin.

"You bitch, you'll regret that," he spat into her face, backhanding her before placing one large hand solidly around her throat.

Tears stung her eyes as the joint pain from the slap mingled with the sensation of her airway constricting under his restraint.

"Please," she attempted to beg, but nothing came from her mouth.

Paolo laughed - only stopping when a loud bang echoed from the door.

"Carlos . . . Miss Garcia . . . Paolo!"

"They'll make their mind up in a minute," he sneered, using his body to keep her prisoner against the wall.

"We need you to open the door at once," the voice from the other side shouted.

"Yeah right," Paolo called back, "Kinda got my hands fall at the moment, but as soon as I'm done I'll be right with you."

Pen was feeling light headed, her eyes blinking as she fought to remain conscious. She could hear the voices, but all she could focus on was the flicking fluorescent lights in the room. Nausea washed over her as she felt his hand trace up her leg and under her hem.

"Please, stop," she attempted again, but she could hear no sound.

"Paolo, you need to step away from Miss Garcia now and open this door!"

"Yeah, yeah," he spoke once more before his lips slid roughly across hers, "Do they really think I'm going to miss this opportunity?"

Pen's stomached rolled, she was certain she was about to vomit. She could feel herself cough and gag as he let go of her throat and pushed her towards his bed. Hitting her head hard against the wall, she closed her eyes, finally submitting to the release of unconsciousness.


	17. Not a Victim

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**I can only offer a huge an apology for the delay. I knew I had a hectic week ahead when I posted last weekend but was not prepared for the extra surprise that means I have no idea how I got to Friday but here it is. Sorry for leaving you with such a cliff-hanger for so long. A huge thank you to my Beta for her help with the end of this chapter.  
**

. . .

The thunderous storm cloud that was Derek Morgan barrelled down the crisp clean corridors of the hospital - no-one daring to do anything other than get out of his way. One look at the man and it was obvious that someone would have hell to pay.

Ian Garcia was pacing the relatives' room, unable to sit doing nothing. After all, he had sat doing nothing the whole time that his sister had been in with that monster. He instantly froze and snapped his attention towards the door as it banged opened wide announcing the arrival of Derek Morgan.

"Derek," he almost sighed.

"What the hell happened?" Derek growled, closing the door behind him.

"Carlos wasn't Carlos, he was Paolo. They aren't telling me much. God, Derek, I was there and I have no idea what happened. They didn't let me know - not until the ambulance arrived." He paused before delivering the coup de grace. "She was badly beaten, Derek."

Ian collapsed into one of the chairs, his head rolling back against the wall. He felt so hopeless. "No-one is telling me anything," he sobbed.

Derek softened slightly. He would get answers, but right now Ian was his only hope. Sitting down next to the shattered man, Derek leant forward, resting his arms on his knees, dragging his hands over his face.

"Ian, start at the beginning and tell me what you do know - rather than what you don't. You are Pen got there. Why weren't you in the room with her? I thought you were visiting too?"

Ian let out a deep sigh. "The doc said that Carlos told them last night that he had changed his mind and he no longer wanted me to visit."

"Son of a bitch," Derek hissed between gritted teeth, "he planned this. This wasn't a random personality change, he wanted her alone."

Ian nodded - he had figured that much for himself. "So Pen went in. The next thing I know I heard some alarm go off, but no-one in the waiting area seemed concerned, so I sat there. I just sat there Derek while that bastard was doing God knows what to her."

Derek fist flexed. _He should have seen this coming. He should never have left her to go there alone. If only he had been there_. . .

"Don't," Ian's voice, stronger and more defined could be heard over his shoulder.

Derek swung his head to look at Pen's brother.

"Don't beat yourself up over this; we both know we had no way of stopping her," Ian spoke calmly.

Derek knew Ian spoke the truth, but he knew he could not release the nagging doubt that things would have been different had he of been there.

"What happened next?" Derek mumbled, sitting back and resting his head against the wall.

"I heard sirens outside, and then a nurse entered the waiting room and asked me to follow her. I admit I assumed Carlos had changed his mind and she was taking me through to meet him. Instead she led me out of the building. The doc was by the ambulance, he told me Pen had been hurt and it was best if I travelled with her. That's all they said - not how or any other explanation."

Derek shook his head. He would get an explanation, one way or another.

"How did she look? Was she conscious?"

"She was unconscious," Ian stated flatly. "She had bruising to her face and a red mark around her throat. I couldn't see much else."

"He tried to strangle her," Derek let his mind speak out loud, "as he did his other victims."

As the thought sunk in, Derek recalled all the details of what else he did to his other victims and winced. _Not his Baby Girl __–__ please no._

. . .

Both men looked up as the door opened and a tired looking doctor entered the room.

He glanced between the two men, before directing his word towards Ian, "Mr. Garcia."

Ian nodded.

"Miss Garcia is conscious again, but very groggy. She is in a lot of pain and we have decided, given the circumstances that a certain level of sedation is the best form of pain relief at this stage. We will be keeping her in overnight. The combination of breathing problems caused by strangulation and the severe bang to the head she has suffered are still a concern."

Derek stood. "Was she raped?" he asked and tried not to vomit as the words left his mouth, but needing to know.

"I'm sorry sir, you are…?" the doctor prompted with a stoic expression.

"Her best friend and an FBI agent to boot. I arrested the son of bitch who did this and I need to know – did . . . he . . . rape . . . her?"

"I really am not able to tell you that."

"Can you tell me?" Ian's voice asked weakly, as he stood beside Derek.

The doctor's eyes darted from one man to the other.

"Police asked that we check for signs of sexual assault and if necessary, collect appropriate evidence," the young man swallowed hard. "From her injuries it was hard to tell. There was bruising to her legs, mainly upper thighs. When she briefly regained consciousness one of the police officers spoke to her and she assured them that there was no assault, therefore we have not collected samples. According to the police the whole attack had been caught on camera, they are waiting to review that before we can be sure. Miss Garcia is not up to answering more questions at the moment."

"Can we be with her?" Ian asked.

"Sure. Follow me."

. . .

Ian and Derek walked into the private room. The sounds of various machines chattered in the background. Pen looked pale, except for the blue and purple stains of the bruises.

Ian stood beside her, taking her small hand in his and squeezing.

"Hey Sis, it's us - just me and Derek."

Her eyes fluttered as she fought the effects of the medication.

"Shhh, Baby Girl," Derek soothed, softly rubbing her exposed arm, "you need to rest, we'll still be here in the morning; we're not going anywhere tonight." A solitary tear rolled down her darkened cheek as Derek spoke and he reached across Ian to wipe it away. "Shush Babe, shush," he soothed.

"Just remember to keep your promise," she whispered.

Derek squeezed her hand tightly. "I promise," he choked through his unshed tears. Satisfied, her eyelashes fluttered a couple of times before closing. Accepting that she had slipped into a deep sleep, Derek let out his breath in one long shudder.

"What promise?" Ian whispered.

Derek's eyes never left Pen's face, "That I won't ever treat her like a victim."

Ian's mouth opened then closed. Looking around, he took the chair at the end of the bed and tried to settle in for what was going to be a very long night.

As far as Derek was concerned, morning couldn't come fast enough, he thought as his thumb gently caressed Pen's hand.


	18. Understanding

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**So we are nearing the end of this particular journey and it has been a real rollercoaster for me. Carlos has taken on a life of his own and I have really enjoyed creating him, and the other OCs used in this story. Who knows I may try something like this again. Thanks for CCOAC for encouraging me to try something new and giving me such a great character to create.**

. . .

Pen woke slowly. The dull ache that rippled through her whole body was enough to convince her that staying still was her best course of action. As her eyes flickered, adjusting to the dim light of the room she smiled, seeing Derek sleeping awkwardly in the stiff plastic chair. She would bet he'd hurt as badly as her when he woke.

Turning her head slowly, trying to get her bearings, she spotted her brother similarly propped up in a second chair. As she glanced lazily around the room, everything came flooding back. Pen screwed up her eyes, but not before several tears escaped.

"Hey," she heard Derek's deep voice break through the nightmare her mind was replaying.

Slowly she peered through our tears to face him. "I'm so stupid," she sobbed.

Derek leant forward, ignoring the shot of pain travelling down his spine. Taking her hand, he dragged his chair closer with his free hand. Resting his elbows on the bed beside her, he gently kissed her hand as it rested in his.

"You, my Genius Girl, are not stupid."

"Yeah, well I feel it," she sobbed, "I let him do this to me. I walked right in there - even when I knew something was wrong. After Battle I told myself to always trust my instinct, but yet again I pushed that aside for my own pride. I assumed that I could get through to him when no one else could."

Derek squeezed her hand, noticing that Ian had woken and was stretching his stiff body. Reaching out he stroked her hair, trying to sooth her troubled mind. "Want to tell me what happened?"

Pen shook her head furiously, regretting it immediately. "No, I want to forget. I told the police what I remember before he knocked me unconscious, they have the footage for the rest. He is already in there for the rest of his life, so what happened makes no difference to that."

"What are you saying?" Ian snapped.

"I'm saying that I want to go home and forget," a familiar determination in her voice. "Forget about Carlos and Paolo and everything that happened," she continued. "I don't need another brother. I don't need to be nice. I need to return to being me. Surrounded by screens filled with information that relates to people I have never met and never intend to."

"But he should be prosecuted for this," Ian looked pleadingly at Derek.

Derek shook his head. "Not necessarily. Paolo isn't a real person in law, Carlos is. If Carlos has no idea what Paolo has done then he cannot be prosecuted for his actions."

"And I don't want him to either," Pen said.

Ian looked at her in disbelief. "Really, after all he's done?"

She nodded.

. . .

Lying on the bed Carlos appeared lifeless to those who watched. The heavy sedation they had been forced to use to bring Paolo under control was still having an impact. He hadn't moved all night and this morning was no different.

Watching the black and white screen, Dr Benningham tried to guess who would wake up later today – Carlos or Paolo? Either was possible.

Whoever it was, they would have to play the next few days carefully. Who was he kidding? They would never be able to let their guard down. Yesterday, Paolo had proved he was able to plan and deceive. They would need to completely reconsider his risk assessment.

Sighing, Dr Benningham turned away from the screen, praying that they would see Carlos again one day -that this wasn't the end. The thought of Paolo taking over permanently sent a shudder down his spine.

Leaving the small observation room, he made his way back to his office. Preparing himself for the mountain of paperwork created by yesterday's incident. He wondered how Miss Garcia was doing. Maybe he should ring the hospital and enquire. Shaking his head he opened the blank door into his personal escape, looking at the photos carefully arranged on his desk. Here he felt safe.

. . .

Derek placed the bag on her bed. "Think there is everything you could possibly want in here."

Pulling the zipper open, she glanced inside and smiled weakly. "You cheated. You have brought everything with you."

He gave her his infamous charming grin. "I know I've got it right that way."

Pen winced as she moved to try and find some clothes to change into. She hurt like hell, but the only way the doctor was letting her fly home was if she could convince him it was nowhere near as bad as it was.

Derek's grinned slipped. "Can I help?"

"Is that your way of getting your hands on my lacy undies?" she joked, noticing the look of concern in his eyes.

"I've already done that packing your bag, remember. You just look like you could do with a hand, that's all, but if you want to play Miss Independent I'm happy to sit here and watch," he smiled to reassure her.

Sitting back down on the Pen sighed, it was harder work then she thought it would be. A mass of bruises, a couple of broken ribs and a cracked cheek bone were all playing their part in crippling her.

"Is Ian coming back?" she asked softly.

Derek shook his head, as he made his way round to face her, hugging her gently.

"He's cross with me, isn't he?", sadness tinged her voice.

"No," Derek answered honestly. "He's cross that he couldn't help; he's cross with Paolo, and generally he doesn't understand how you can be so understanding."

Pen sighed, laying her head on his firm chest, and listening to his breaths.

"I wasted a lot of my life being angry," Pen admitted, slowly caressing his sleeve, "It isn't constructive, it's destructive. I learnt that a long time ago. Everything happens for a reason. We might never know what that reason is, but there is a reason."

Derek nodded, knowing she believed fully in the philosophy she quoted, and he respected her for that.


	19. Epilogue

**Family Fortunes**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas**

**So this is it, we have come to the end. It is just a short epilogue to hopefully round things up. I am sorry if any of you feel Derek hasn't been fully developed in this, but Garcia and Carlos were to be the main focus of the story. I just couldn't have Garcia make this journey without some moral support.**

. . .

Penelope settled into the oversized seat, she still couldn't believe Derek had gotten an upgrade on their journey home. Though with how delicate she was feeling she was more than grateful for the extra room.

Turning her head from her 'Noir Knight', she watched the tarmac below begin to move as the plane taxied out onto the runway. She was going home.

Long, long ago she had left California and her family behind. She had got on a lot better with her brothers since she had put the width of the country between them. Visiting only for special occasions meant that for short periods of time they could be a family once more.

This time she was leaving an additional brother. One that less than a fortnight ago she didn't know existed. Now she just wished she could continue to live in such ignorant bliss.

Taking a deep breath as the plane picked up speed, she slowly hissed its release.

"You okay, Baby?" Morgan's deep tone broke through her thoughts.

Pen nodded, squeezing his hand without looking in his direction.

She was okay, only okay, nothing more. She hurt, but she would mend. It could have been so much worse. Derek had managed to 'persuade' the police to fill in the blanks. She was grateful that they confirmed what she already knew. He hadn't sexually assaulted her. The team from the hospital had managed to get through the door in time to save her such a fate.

She swiped at the lone tear, determined not to cry, even though the cabin lights had dimmed somewhat since take off. _Everything happens for a reason_, she reminded herself of her personal mantra.

Closing her eyes, as she rested her head back, Pen couldn't help but wonder what the future held for Carlos. She whole heartedly believed he had no idea about Paolo and what he was capable. _How could he?_ So he was left paying for crimes he didn't commit. Though if she listened to Derek and her brother, he was paying for nothing right now – '_The easy option,_' Ian had called it.

Pen didn't agree because she had seen the good in Carlos. The one morning they had shared, when he had talked freely, it had been there. Pen had to believe that it was just possible that one day Carlos would rule permanently, and then she would return.

. . .

Carlos was curled up on his bed, ramming himself as far into the corner as was physically possible. His head hurt, but they were giving him nothing for it. _Were they trying to drive him insane?_

Fisting his fingers into his thick dark hair, he screamed. _Could they not see what they were doing to him?_

How was he ever to fight Paolo if they were not going to help? They had promised. They made so many promises to him, but none of it was true. No-one could help him.

Not while Paolo was watching.


End file.
